Not Ready to Lose You
by finnishvixen
Summary: Sam is dealing with Bailey's shooting. Set during "Ambition in the Blood".
1. When Life Takes Me Down

(Unseen scenes from "Ambition in the Blood")

**WHEN LIFE TAKES ME DOWN / Day One**

"Are you out of your mind? Charging Agent Waters with murder?" Coop was ready to fly off the handle at the meddling local pd captain.

"I call them like I see them," Handleman replied snidely.

"Get your eye sight checked, 'cos you're off the mark on this one," Coop ranted at the man.

Sam, on the other hand, was more anxious than ever to talk to Bailey. Where was he, anyway? What had Coop meant by "out of the loop"? She wanted to tell him she was all right and what was going on, seek his reassurance.

"Coop, just give me your cell. I need to talk to Bailey," she reached out her hand. Her sight was still a bit blurry, but she could see Coop looking discomfited. A sense of dread started to chill her.

Shooting a pointed look at Handleman, Coop took her to the side and broke the news to her. "Sam... John had to take Bailey to the hospital." At her sharp intake of breath, he quickly continued: "Looks like his daughter shot him. He's in surgery as we speak." Coop looked on as shock and grief overtook Sam.

She _needed _to be there, by his side, and that's all that mattered right now. "I have to get there, _now,_" she uttered and bolted for the door.

"Excuse me, where are you going? You're under arrest, Doctor Waters," Handleman said to detain Sam. When she gave no notice of heeding his words, he took on after her. Coop grabbed the man's shoulder and pulled him back.

"Her friend and boss has just been shot, and her daughter is in town. Her whole life is here. You can be pretty sure she isn't about to go on the lam," he ground out. "Now, we are heading to the Atlanta general hospital. If you intend to pursue this ridiculous course of action, you will find us there," he finished with disdain and followed Sam out of the space.

She strode out into the sunshine and was blinded by the light. The day was progressing, the minutes were passing. All of it was real. Her knees gave out, like she'd been punched in the gut, and she braced her fall with her hands. For a moment, she thought she wouldn't be able to get up.

She knew one thing with perfect clarity: she wasn't ready to lose her friend.

* * *

><p>Coop navigated the car through the busy streets while Sam talked to George and Grace on the phone. Having heard that Sam had been found safe and sound, John had chosen to stay at the hospital.<p>

Sam jumped out of the car at the emergency doors and hastened inside. Her vision had turned to normal, and she rushed through the doors, impatient to find the admittance desk and hear news of Bailey's condition.

She asked a nurse for the whereabouts of the desk, and followed the directions, first to the left, second on the right. She made it there in less than a minute and fired up her questions before even reaching the desk. "Excuse me, I'm Sam Waters, I understand that a Bailey Malone was brought in here about forty minutes ago, how is he doing?" she rattled off to an unflappable nurse.

"Ma'am, take a deep breath and state your business again," instructed the nurse.

Sam hardly took half a breath before replying: "I'm looking for Bailey Malone, my name is Sam Waters, I believe I'm mentioned in his living will, so could you please tell me how he's doing?" The nurse started to look up Bailey's files on the computer, and Sam was about to launch another series of questions when John called her name.

He'd emerged from the waiting room where he'd stationed himself to wait for Sam and Coop's arrival. Seeing the shaken look on her face, he was glad he'd had the presence of mind to shed his blood-stained sweater.

"John! What do you know, any news?" she fired quickly.

"He's still in the o.r. The surgeons are working hard," he reassured her. "I'm glad to see you," he said and hugged her. "Are you okay?"

She dismissed his enquiry impatiently, not willing to discuss or even reminisce it. "Was he still talking when they got him to the hospital?"

"No, he was out cold when I brought him here," he replied. "Frances called me in a panic, apparently right after she'd shot him. I took off right away and found the front door open. She was nowhere in sight. I found him in her room," he finished uncertainly, not knowing how much the profiler could cope with before a complete meltdown.

The nurse had finally pulled up Bailey's files, and he informed them that Sam was listed in the living will. After Coop joined them at the desk, they were escorted to the surgery wing's waiting room.

* * *

><p>She took a deep breath, then killed the engine and stepped out of the car, her mind made up. She walked up the path to the door, which was plastered with "FBI DO NOT CROSS" tapes. She knew the forensic team had already been there, and therefore she had no qualms about entering his house. She was struggling to make sense of it all, and she was drawn to the scene of his tragedy, as if her presence there would somehow rectify the past or impact the present.<p>

Her hands were shaky, and she had to bend over to insert the key into the lock with accuracy. She entered the house and closed the door behind her, then froze in her steps. She was assaulted with a smell of iron. The seeped remains of his blood. "Oh, Bailey," escaped her lips.

She took a moment, letting herself to feel the grief for her friend. Then, she walked further and entered his bedroom. She clicked on the lamp beside his bed, and sat on the bed for a while, looking out of the window into the darkness of the night. Finally, she steeled herself and took a closer look at the floor. No signs of dried blood, but then, she'd just been preparing herself for the real deal.

She stood up and headed, with slow and heavy steps, to Frances' room. The scent emanating from the room grew stronger with each step. She reached the doorway and paused, then flicked on the ceiling light. There was no escaping the dark patch on the carpeting and the clothes lying on the floor.

Later, she'd have no clear recollection of how she'd ended up on the floor, if her knees had given out like before or if she'd sut down of her own accord. She just remembered sitting there, staring at the dried puddle, picturing him lying on the floor, helpless and heartbroken. Like she felt at the moment.


	2. You on My Mind

**YOU ON MY MIND / Day and Night Two**

"Sam, time to get up," Angel gently shook her at the shoulder. She was instantly awake. "Angel? What time is it?" She rubbed her face to make herself feel more alert.

"It's eight thirty."

She gazed at her best friend, taking a beat to comprehend the words. "What?"

"I thought some sleep would do you good," Angel explained with a worried look on her face.

Sam started to move aside the blankets and sighed. "I wish you hadn't done that. I was gonna see Bailey before going to work and..."

"Relax, I already called George and said you'd come in later," the artist alleviated Sam's worries. "I'll take Chlo to school. Come on, she has something to show you before you jump in the shower."

Sam trudged after Angel to the living room, where her daughter was tying her shoelaces on the sofa. When Chloe noticed her mom, she stood up and grabbed a piece of paper from the table which she then gave to Sam. "I made it for Uncle Bailey."

Chloe had drawn a Get Well Soon card, complete with a greeting and a drawing of Bailey laying on a bed. Sam was touched at her daughter's considerate gesture. "Thank you, sweetheart. I'm sure he'll love it," she uttered and kissed Chloe's temple.

"Can I come with you and give it to him?" The adults exchanged glances. Seeing Bailey in his current fragile condition would certainly serve to frighten the little girl.

"You know what, Uncle Bailey's awfully sleepy right now. Why don't I take you there in a couple of days? He'll stay awake longer by then. In the mean time, he'll have this to look at," Sam replied, choosing her words carefully. She felt relieved when Chloe accepted this course of action with a nod.

* * *

><p>Sam walked up to the little desk in front of the double doors beyond which Bailey was recuperating. She gave her name and stated her business, and was told that the doctor would come along shortly to apprise her of Bailey's progress. She thanked the nurse and pushed through the doors. Visiting hours wouldn't start for many more hours, but being a federal agent, she was allowed to visit Bailey any time of the day, an implicit contract between two branches of public servitude which dealt with the ugly side of humanity day in, day out.<p>

She looked at him intently, searching for any signs of a speedy recovery. To her worry, she found none. He still looked ashen and weak. Trying to shake off her feelings of dread, she rummaged through her bag for the drawing and some tape. Having found them, she leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Morning, Bail. Chloe sent this for you."

She taped the drawing to the table, then gave her friend another look. She stroked his head gently, idly wondering at the lack of stubble on his cheeks and jaw. Movement beyond the doors caught her eye, and she looked over and saw John. "See you later, Malone," she said quietly and walked out to greet John.

* * *

><p>Sam sidled in through the doors. The room was dark, only illuminated by the light seeping in through the windows of the doors. She stopped at the foot of the bed, allowing her eyes to get used to the darkness. Then, she looked around, in search of the chair to sit on for a while. She spotted it in the far-off corner, and she moved it to his bedside quietly.<p>

She settled down and took a deep breath. The night nurse had informed her that the care team were optimistic about a speedy recovery, now that the leak had been fixed and his condition was stable. The team had woken him up for a few minutes to gauge his mental faculties; his brain had been without oxygen for approximately twenty minutes. He'd been able to answer the few questions satisfactorily, and soon thereafter, sleep had been induced, for the last time. From now on, he'd be sleeping on his own schedule.

She stretched her back and hands, trying to find a more comfortable position. She knew she couldn't stay long. It was already past midnight, and she had to make it home soon if she wanted to arrive there safely. She felt tired and she knew she'd fall asleep quickly, but she was sure to have nightmares about Jack, and her slumber wouldn't be restful.

She emerged from her musings when Bailey moved his right hand on the bed. Sam leant in closer to have a better view of his face, and at her movement, his half-open eyes widened a bit. He blinked, struggling to see more clearly. "Sam?" he croaked out.

She smiled and grabbed his hand. "Hey, you." She squeezed his hand.

"Hi, Sam," he managed to rasp before he started coughing, to clear his throat. She let go of his hand and poured a little water into a glass from a vase on the table. She raised the glass to his lips and tilted it to give him a little sip. "Better?" He swallowed and nodded. "Do you need anything?"

A gleam entered his eyes. "Could use a cigar," he mumbled.

Warmth spread all over her. Her friend was still with her, in all his charming glory. Coop had been right; he hadn't been slowed down at all. "No dice, Malone," she smirked and was rewarded with a small smile from him.

She placed the glass back on the table. "Go back to sleep," she whispered to him. "I'll see you in the morning," she added and looked on as his eyes drifted shut again. She stayed with him until his breathing had evened out.


	3. We'll Find Our Feet after Dreaming

**WE'LL FIND OUR FEET AFTER DREAMING / Days Four and Six, Night Seven**

Sam had relented to obeying the hospital's visiting hours now that she knew Bailey was on the mend. So, there she was, visiting her friend during regular hours. He'd been moved to another floor of the hospital, a clear sign of his improving health. He even had a room all to himself. His bedside table was overrun by flower arrangements, and numerous balloons floated above his bed.

She took a look at the bouquet she'd brought in a few days ago. "Chloe would like to visit you. Do you want her to?"

Up until her question, they'd been enjoying a peaceful moment together, content to let keep one another company in silence. Sometimes they didn't need words. A smile danced on his features. "I would love it."

She responded to his smile with one of her own. "Okay, I'll bring her along tomorrow. I'll also bring you some fresh clothes. You're getting out of here the day after tomorrow, right?"

He nodded mutely. She guessed that he wasn't looking forward to returning to an empty house, with only memories to keep him company, for the time being at least. She'd seen to it that the dried puddle of blood had been cleaned days ago, and she'd taken upon herself to tidy up Frances' room otherwise, to spare him. She decided to fix him something to eat the night he got home.

* * *

><p>Sam took Chloe out of school for a few hours for the girl's visit to Uncle Bailey. They would eat lunch at the hospital cafeteria, the three of them together.<p>

She'd informed him of the time they would arrive, but to her surprise, when Chloe bounced in through the doors, he was napping. He startled awake and made believe that he'd been awake all along. Sam hid an incipient smile; for all his refutations, he sure was sleeping a lot.

"Uncle Bailey!" Chloe whooped and sauntered up to the bed in no time. Sam followed her daughter's steps and, without preamble, picked her daughter up and put her sitting on the bed by Bailey's side.

"Hey, sweetheart," he responded warmly and bestowed a smile to the little girl. He and Sam greeted one another without words.

"How are you feeling?" Chloe asked gravely.

"Perfectly fine now that you've come to see me. You know, you're my favorite visitor," he said without guile, and the girl preened under his praise.

"Thanks! Did you like our flowers?" she asked, wondering at the splendor of balloons and flowers surrounding them.

"I think I loved them the best, but don't go spreading that around, okay?" She nodded her head, vowing silently to honor his request. Then, remembering her most recent gift to him, she slid her backpack off her back and opened it, then produced a small and cuddly toy horse. "He's Mr Mustard. Mom bought it for me when I had chickenpox. Do you want to keep him?"

Bailey stared at Chloe with a slightly puzzled look on his face. "Chloe thinks he nursed her back to health," Sam jumped in to explain.

A look of comprehension dawned on his face. "Thank you, this is a very nice gift. I promise I'll give it back soon." He took Mr Mustard from Chloe's hands and inspected it.

Worried about a potential post-operation disease, Sam enquired from him: "You've had chickenpox, right?"

"Yeah, I had it when... I was your age, I think," he said to Chloe. "So, tell me what's been going on. How's school?"

Chloe launched into a story about her class' spelling bee preparations, and Sam took this opportunity to observe her friend. He listened intently to the girl's yarn, but at points she could see his attention drifted away and once, his face was graced by a forlorn expression. Sam guessed that he was thinking of Frances. She reached out her right hand and squeezed his left shoulder quickly. The contact brought him out of his reverie, and he answered her compassionate look with one of gratitude before focusing on Chloe again.

* * *

><p>Chloe was scooping up her ice cream, but the adults were already done with their lunch. "So, tomorrow. What are you doing later?" Her question surprised him.<p>

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want me... us to come pick you up and cook you dinner, for example?" She added Chloe's presence to the proposed plan for the evening for leverage. She was determined to not let him spend his first night home alone, and she estimated that extra fire power couldn't hurt.

She was right; he was in no state to say no in the face of Chloe's hopeful expectation. "Sure," he acquiesced and didn't even attempt to hide his pleasure at the thought.

* * *

><p>She'd been as good as her word and had come to pick him with Chloe and enough food to feed an army for a week. The car ride had passed well enough, but she could tell he was anxious when they had walked up to the front door. When he'd inserted the key into the lock, she had placed her hand lightly on his upper back, in a show of support.<p>

She had kept a close eye on him when they entered the house; when the lights went on; when his eyes were drawn to the direction of Frances' room. He had appeared to be coping well.

"Now, promise me that you'll sleep in tomorrow and take it easy," she pledged him as Chloe was putting on her clothes.

"And if you need me, call me any time," she stressed the last two words and he knew that she somehow knew of the nightmares. He guessed that she was worried about flashbacks, too. He nodded silently and solemnly, and she looked relieved.

He knew that she'd been watching him closely all evening; she hadn't realised that he'd been doing the same with her. There was a restlessness in her demeanour which hadn't abated all evening, even though she seemed relaxed and not as consumed with worry as she'd been in the past few days. But, he couldn't broach the subject in Chloe's presence, so he reasoned with himself that she'd tell him when she was ready.

He or she might stumble, but together, they'd find their feet again.

_THE END_


End file.
